


My Constant

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Weasleycest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: From beginning to end, they're the other's constant.





	My Constant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 HpRareFest.
> 
> Warning(s)/Content: Incest, language, piercings, tattoos, brief mentions of BDSM practices, major (to story) character death, infidelity. Canon compliant.

**1989**  
  
It was hot. The kind of hot where no matter what position he got into, or how he walked, Bill's balls stuck to _things._ He winced as he tried to surreptitiously peel them from his thigh without drawing attention to himself. To his right, Charlie snorted.  
  
“Just stick your hand down there and sort it out, prude.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “Not like I've never seen you touching yourself before. We share a bedroom.”  
  
Bill said nothing but did gratefully shove his hand down into his pants and rearrange, letting out a little moan of relief as he did so.  
  
“It's so fucking hot,” Charlie whinged half-heartedly.  
  
They were taking a moment to hide from the clamour of the rest of their family, in a spot which the others couldn't see. They often sloped off there when they wanted to talk in private in the day time, or when Charlie wanted to smoke. Their chosen spot was on a river bend, where the trees blocked out the sun above and the water was slow and cool. As it was, both of them had lost their footwear and were sitting on rocks with their feet dangling in the deliciously cold water.  
  
Bill paused to listen to a particularly sweet birdsong from above, tilting his head back to search for the culprit in the branches.  
  
“It's just a Thrush,” Charlie said calmly, looking down at where he was moving his feet through the river.  
  
Bill started to watch them too, looking at the broad profiles distorted by the water. As per the rest of their bodies, where Bill's feet were long and thin, Charlie's were smaller in length but wider. His toes were chubbier too. In short, he was stockily built and though only sixteen, he was strong. Strong enough to win a wrestling match between them at any rate.  
  
“It's so weird that this might be the last summer we ever do this,” Charlie mused. “That next year I'll have to corral that lot on my own.”  
  
Bill didn't miss the sadness in his tone. “Try not to sound too bitter, mate.” He sighed and reached down to run his fingers through the surface of the water – it felt like silk. “Egypt's not that far away.”  
“Far enough,” was Charlie's muttered response.  
  
Silence wedged between them and Bill thought it seemed as though he was already in Egypt, not mere inches away from the brother who also counted as one of his best friends. He was due to leave for his placement in Egypt the same week that Charlie and Percy were due to return to Hogwarts, with the twins in tow for their first year. Bill had to admit he didn't envy Charlie that task, but then out of the two of them, Charlie had always been best at calming Fred and George down, whilst he himself had more success with Percy.  
  
Though he was sad about leaving his family, he was saddest about leaving Charlie. It had been hard enough to spend two years at Hogwarts without him, given that they'd been close ever since Charlie was old enough to speak. But to move a few thousand miles away was something else entirely.  
  
As usual, it seemed as though there was something unspoken between them, a bond which Bill didn't really understand. Charlie was his first younger brother and therefore was undoubtedly special, but it had always felt like something _more_ and he'd never been able to put his finger on exactly what.  
  
Glancing up, Bill became alarmed to see Charlie's face twisted with emotion. He was normally so calm and laid-back that it was a complete shock to see him expressing his feelings so obviously.  
  
“Hey. You. Chizzlesticks. What's up?” He asked, forcing his tone into what he hoped was a playful manner. He threw in the twins' latest ridiculous nickname for extra affect. “Talk to me.”  
“I'll just miss you.”  
“I'll miss you too.”  
  
Charlie only hummed in response and continued moving his feet back and forth in the river. Bill watched droplets of it clinging to the hairs on his shins where they met the waterline  
  
He wasn't sure it was entirely normal to be paying such attention.  
  
“Charlie...”  
  
There was no hint of what Charlie was about to do as he looked to his left at Bill. He seemed as calm as ever, even if his eyes were still emotional from their discussion. So when he leant over and kissed Bill on the lips, it was completely unexpected and Bill was completely unprepared.  
  
It wasn't a quick kiss by any stretch – more of a long, lingering connect. Charlie's eyes had closed and Bill could see each individual eyelash as they crept towards his brother's cheeks. Eventually Charlie did break the contact but didn't stray far, tilting his head forward so that his forehead rested against Bill's face. His eyes remained shut but his mouth was hanging open loosely, as if he were still cherishing the feel of Bill's lips against his own.  
  
“Erm, okay. What the fuck?” Bill blurted, then winced at his lack of sensitivity.  
“Don't,” Charlie begged, and before Bill could get anything else out, Charlie kissed him again.  
  
That time, without the element of surprise baffling him, Bill felt able to respond. He turned on his rock and, almost involuntarily, raised his arms to put them around his brother's back. Charlie responded eagerly by opening his mouth and leaning into Bill's hold. Whose tongue came out to play first Bill couldn't tell, but before long they were properly going at one another. He brought his fingers up to sink into the wild, flyaway curls that their mother loathed. They made Charlie _Charlie_ in Bill's mind; they suited his personality just perfectly.  
  
At that point, Bill had to acknowledge that he was eighteen and his body was responding to the kiss in a very typically teenaged way. His cock felt awkward as it grew trapped in his pants against his body.  
  
Something flapped above them and they both jumped and broke apart.  
  
“Just a bird,” Charlie murmured, and made to move in again.  
“Wait,” Bill said, holding up a hand.  
  
Charlie froze then, knowing that whatever moment they had shared, it was over.  
  
“It was nothing,” he said automatically. “Just... nothing.”  
  
Bill watched as his brother scrambled off his rock, painfully scraping his legs as he brought them out of the river and stood up.  
  
“It didn't happen,” Charlie said emphatically over his shoulder as he hurried away.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **Summer, 1991**  
  
“Oh, Godric...”  
  
Charlie's keen was loud and breathy, and it drove straight to Bill's cock. His brother wasn't long off the Portkey and they were pressed against the wall Bill's spell-cooled apartment. He had a thick wrist in each hand, keeping Charlie pinned in place as he kissed him and rubbed up against the body – so changed again in only a year – that he'd been missing.  
  
Finally Bill relaxed his hold and stepped back, grinning. “Miss me?”  
“It's been for-fucking-ever since Christmas,” Charlie moaned unhappily, screwing up his face. “And school was so shit for the last term, everyone stressed to the eyeballs, too scared about the future to do anything with what we had left. And you weren't there and I just...”  
  
Bill watched as Charlie grew still and mentally shook himself. He had really grown up in the last year. He still didn't match Bill's height but he'd shot up another few inches and his chest and arms were practically bulging at the seams of his t-shirt. A smile slowly blossomed on his face and he ran his fingers through his tangled hair.  
  
“Better?” Bill grinned.  
“It will be once you put a beer in this hand,” Charlie held it up. “And your cock in this one.” He held up the other.  
  
Bill laughed at that: a true, deep laugh which shook his belly and could only have been caused by one of his brothers. He loved his work in Egypt but it only really ever felt right when someone from home was with him – mostly Charlie.  
  
“Don't you want me to show you around first?”  
“Pyramids, tombs, blah, blah, blah – that's your favoured brand of cauldron, Billywig, not mine. I just want you to fuck me like you did that time you did at Dad's fortieth.”  
  
Bill couldn't help but blush at that – that had been a filthy, amazing exploit. In their dad's shed of all places, with Charlie bent over one of the workbenches with his hands bound to the metal legs. He'd discovered quite quickly that his little brother was not particularly bland when it came to his sexual tastes. For a time, Bill had been completely disconcerted by it – how could a guy two years younger than him be so sexually confident and experimental? How could he be so brave in the face of the unknown, willing to try any kink he'd seen in a magazine and masturbated to?  
  
But that hadn't stopped him on the night that the rest of the family were giddy on homemade cider and cake. Hadn't stopped him from lubing up his wand, sliding it into his brother's anus and performing spells on him – cool streams of air, hot streams of air, warm water, cold water. No matter what he'd done, Charlie had loved it all.  
  
“Well. I'll have to give my wand a polish,” he said dryly, giving his eyebrows a quirk.  
  
Charlie smirked and dropped his jeans.  
  


* * *

  
 **Spring, 1993**  
  
“This is my kingdom!” Charlie declared proudly, thrusting open the front door to his tiny cabin.  
  
Bill looked inside to see an impossibly cramped space with some mad paint choices splashed about. Charlie seemed too big for it as he led the way inside.  
  
“Bedroom, bog, sitting-room-cum-kitchen. I've cum in it **lots** of times.” He nodded and gave a seedy grin. Bill burst out laughing.  
  
Even through the laughter, pain made his chest ache. If Charlie was doing any form of coming in his living room, that meant he was having sex with other people. And that hurt.  
  
“C'mon, dump your stuff, I want to show you around. We have this amazing Swedish hatchling, oh my Godric, she's so precious-”  
  
Charlie's enthusiasm and happiness literally swelled in the tiny cabin until Bill thought it might choke him.  
  
“What?” Charlie said suddenly, looking abashed. Bill realised he'd been staring.  
“Nothing. It's just... nice to see you so happy and... at home.” _Without me._ “Settled. You look... you look good.”  
  
So good that his throat had been permanently dry since Charlie had met him at the Portkey Station. If Charlie had been well-defined before, now he was positively ripped. He seemed to have grown even taller, though that probably wasn't the case. Through his jeans, Bill could see thick, powerful thighs. He swallowed the dribble collecting in his mouth.  
  
Wild hair had grown even longer and madder, and Charlie's face looked permanently tanned from the amount of freckles covering his skin. He'd always been the most freckly of all of them, but now they were borderline excessive – and Bill bloody loved it.  
  
“You like vot you see, ah?” Charlie said playfully in a terrible take on a Romanian accent. “Vell, Mr Veasley, feast your eyes...”  
  
And there, in the middle of the poky, grubby little cabin, Charlie started to strip off. Bill felt he needed a sit down to cope. Especially when the garments were gone and he saw what else his brother had been doing to his body.  
  
Two silver bars glinted through his nipples, sandwiched by two small balls on either side. Two massive dragons were inked on his skin, one starting on his ribs to sprawl across his back, and the other starting on the opposite hip and coiling around his thigh. And -  
  
“Motherfucking hell,” Bill gasped.  
  
Charlie's grin was wide. “Do you like it?”  
  
'It' was a curved metal bar with one ball at the the glans and another in his brother's slit. In Charlie's penis. Bill thought he might have had a small heart attack.  
  
“Did that hurt?” he asked stiffly.  
“Yes,” Charlie answered truthfully. “But then we healed it and ever since it's been my best friend.”  
  
Bill watched as thick fingers reached down and worked the bar slightly. The effect was instant – Charlie started to grow hard in his own hand.  
  
“I don't... I don't know what to say,” Bill said truthfully, smoothing his fingers over his lips.  
  
Charlie's face fell. “You don't like it.”  
“No, I do... and the tattoos and the other piercings I just... it's a bit of a shock. Last time I saw you naked you had nothing but your freckles and your hairy bollocks and now...” He shook his head. “It's just different, is all. Grown up. You look grown up.”  
  
At that moment Charlie seemed to remember he was naked in the middle of the day. All the curtains were open. He reached out for his boxers to put them back on, but with the initial shock fading away, Bill didn't want the view to change at all. He sped over and snatched the pants out of Charlie's hand and tossed them over his shoulder.  
  
“Nope,” he said firmly. “You can't just strip off and prance about in the buff and then take it all away again.”  
  
He'd successfully herded Charlie into a wall by that point, and reached out to wrap his fingers around a now fully-fledged erection and squeezed. Charlie let out a hiss of breath and tipped his head back, exposing his throat.  
  
Bill didn't miss the invitation. He bent his head and dug his teeth in.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **Summer, 1994**  
  
“Shh,” Bill pleaded, looking over his shoulder.  
  
They were sequestered in the tiny bathroom of the tent, desperate to share some bodily contact while the rest of the family slept on just a canvas wall away. They'd had no time alone together at home, and this seemed to be their only chance to actually do anything.  
  
The final of the Quidditch World Cup had been superb and it had been good to spend time the younger ones - to properly meet Harry and Hermione for the first time. They were perfect for Ron and he clearly cherished them.  
  
Charlie huffed and pulled back. He was drunk and sweaty – normally Bill's favoured state – but they were both finding it difficult to manage.  
  
“How many cats do you think were actually kept in here?” Charlie muttered.  
“Fuck knows.”  
  
Bill leant in and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, reaching up to cup his brother's jaw for good measure. Charlie didn't pull away but his response was clumsy and tired.  
  
“Shall we just go to bed?” Bill asked gloomily.  
“Probably best. Shame it won't be the same one.” Charlie's scowl grew deeper. “But you probably don't care about that, do you, seeing as you've had plenty of bed-warmers over the past few months.”  
  
Bitterness sliced through his handsome face. Bill felt nauseous.  
  
He loved his brother with everything he had. But their relationship was ten kinds of dysfunctional. People were starting to comment about his lack of a partner and Bill couldn't help it if one of his pleasures in life was to please other people. Somewhere inside he did crave something 'normal', whatever that may be. Something which didn't consist of secrecy and jealousy and red hair at the very least.  
  
A massive bang ripped through the night and the campsite, which had hitherto still been full of chanting, singing and happy banter, was suddenly seized with terror. They didn't have to see it to feel it. Something was very wrong beyond the walls of their mediocre canvas palace.  
  
“Bill?”  
  
“I'm here, Dad,” Bill called back, and tore himself away from Charlie.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **Winter, 1996**  
  
 _Please be nice. Please be nice. Please be nice._  
  
Bill had been dreading it. The moment when Charlie would meet the woman that he'd asked to be his wife. He'd put it off and off, but eventually Fleur had started to suspect there was more to the delay than he was letting on – and he couldn't have her finding out the truth.  
  
She was beautiful and delicate, yet immeasurably fierce. He adored her.  
  
He still adored Charlie just as much but he was trying to ignore that fact.  
  
They were eating at a restaurant in Diagon Alley, which was full of other diners and warm against the cold night outside.  
  
Fleur was happily jabbering away at Charlie, asking him all manner of questions about his life in Romania, which he was answering with his usual Charlie charm. Only someone who knew him as well as Bill knew him would sense the edge beneath the tone and the pain in his eyes.  
  
As he reached for his wine, Bill noticed his fingers were shaking with nerves. He'd been nervous about introducing Fleur to his parents, and Merlin-only-knew his mother wasn't her biggest fan. However, he was full-scale terrified about introducing her to Charlie, because Charlie was the only person he really cared about hurting.  
  
Charlie was his soulmate, but that was too dark and twisted, even for the world they were currently living in.  
  
Eventually, Fleur drew breath and excused herself to go to the toilet. Charlie played the perfect gentleman, pulling her chair out as she rose. Bill's throat started to burn. Charlie settled himself back in his seat and started to gulp hard at his glass of wine. He set it down when it was empty. They stared at one another over the remains of their first course.  
  
Charlie's face remained largely impassive but he slyly, ever-so-slightly quirked his lips to blow Bill a tiny kiss.  
  
“Don't,” Bill begged, making a fist around his discarded napkin.  
  
Charlie rolled his eyes and suddenly became very interested in something on the other side of the restaurant. Bill reached for the bottle to top up his wine but nearly dropped it again as Charlie's warm foot started to slide up his shin. His breath grew ragged as it tickled slowly up the inside of his thigh, and then came to a stop pressing its considerable weight and height right over his crotch.  
  
The bottle began to tremble in his hand. Charlie's toes curled and the sensation nearly had Bill coming then and there, while his wife-to-be was in the toilet. His face still completely innocent, Charlie began to rub him through his trousers. He was still staring at the wall by the entrance. Bill reached down with his free hand and grabbed the offending foot, but couldn't push it away. A smirk curled up Charlie's mouth.  
  
And it was that, really, which pushed Bill over the edge, right there in the middle of the restaurant. He let out the tiniest of gasps and let his eyes fall shut. Charlie's foot immediately disappeared and just at that second, Fleur returned in a floating cloud of blonde hair, grace and a subtle waft of perfume.  
  
She sipped some wine, took a deep breath, and continued her interrogation of his lover.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **2 August 1997**  
  
“Shh,” Charlie whispered, his hand rubbing over Bill's back repeatedly. “Bill. It's going to be okay.”  
  
The Burrow was finally at peace, though Bill doubted anyone was actually asleep. Finally, finally, those who had invaded his wedding had finished their interrogations and after gleaning no information whatsoever about the whereabouts of Harry, Ron and Hermione, had given up.  
  
There was no doubt about it, however – the entire family knew they were now marked, more so than ever before. Ron was gone to top it all off. Perhaps it was all the Champagne he'd imbibed before everything had fallen apart, but Bill was emotional as all hell.  
  
“My fucking wedding day,” he whispered tremulously into Charlie's neck. “Why? Why today?”  
“Well if you will get married in the middle of a war...” Charlie responded dryly. “But the result's the same, Bill. You're still married. You have to focus on the good rather than letting the bad drive you batty. You had an amazing day, and you're married to the woman of your dreams.”  
“And note how I'm standing here in your arms instead of lying in hers.” Bill couldn't help the spite which tumbled out of his lips.  
  
Charlie had been an unbelievable star all day. He'd been there every step of the way. He'd even managed to convincingly fake happiness for most of it. He'd done every single thing asked of him and more, from delivering Bill's gift to Fleur as she got ready to giving the most charming Best Man's speech known to man. He had delighted everybody.  
  
He didn't deserve Bill's spite, not when he could have been so deserving of it but hadn't been.  
  
“Well, I don't know what to tell you,” Charlie said finally, stepping back.  
  
He had been dishevelled before the Death Eaters had turned up, but because of his bravery he had a huge cut on his forehead and the remnants of a bleeding nose. He'd earned that trying to force one of them to get their hands off the bride, so his hair was huge, his shirt had several buttons open and he'd done away with his outer robe.  
  
He looked _beautiful_ , and Bill's heart hurt because he knew that night, of all nights, he couldn't have him. Shouldn't have him.  
  
“You should go and be with Fleur,” Charlie said, visibly stiffening, hating the suggestion as he spoke the words.  
  
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Bill nodded and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  
  
“I...” Bill trailed off. “I don't want you to be alone tonight. Not after that.”  
“What, are you gonna come and warm me up?” Charlie laughed and shook his head. “Nah, dude. You've got a wife. Go and be with her. I'll be fine. I've got my good friend Mr Ogden, and my right hand. Don't you worry about me.”  
  
He winked but the strain was finally plain on his face for Bill to see.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **December, 2002**  
  
“You don't look a day over sixteen,” George said. “A hundred and sixteen.”  
  
Bill watched as Charlie good naturedly grabbed George in a headlock and messed up his hair. In reality that day marked Charlie's thirtieth birthday.  
  
They'd not seen each other for months, and just as it had been since he'd married Fleur, letters were few and far between. When they came, they were full of inane chatter which he knew Charlie didn't really care about. It was all about what was not being said.  
  
But he had something special planned for that evening. Fleur was at home in France visiting her mother who had fallen ill and she'd taken the baby with her. Shell Cottage was completely empty, and Bill knew exactly how he was going to spend those precious, peaceful moments.  
  
As soon as the family released them, he was taking Charlie – by force if necessary – back to his home, and would take him up to the spare bedroom. He wouldn't do it in his wife's bed, as that just seemed even more cruel, but the spare bedroom he'd filled with candles and wine and brand new sheets. He was going to give his brother a present to honour his milestone birthday.  
  
***  
  
“Oh, fuck!” Charlie whimpered, as Bill swallowed dutifully at his groin.  
  
There'd been no resistance from the other wizard. Charlie had clearly _needed_ him so strongly that Bill realised he'd truly been underestimating his brother's control. He'd wondered if things had cooled enough between them when Charlie hadn't written often, or visited. That was clearly not the case; Charlie was just very good at staying away and being a good boy.  
  
“Again?” Bill joked weakly, finally sitting up and wincing at the ache in his arms. “I don't think I've got it in me.”  
“Good, me either,” Charlie panted. “Fucking hell, Bill.”  
“Happy Birthday.” Bill leant over him and gave him a kiss.  
  
“Best birthday ever.” Charlie grinned.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **Late Autumn, 2010**  
  
“Is this your idea of a birthday present?” Bill asked through his fingers.  
“This is a fucking _great_ birthday present,” Charlie said smugly, gesturing down at himself. “I've gone all out for your fortieth, see!”  
  
He was completely naked apart from a large red bow tied perfectly around his erection.  
  
Bill snorted and broke into filthy little chuckles, unable to help himself from enjoying the view and Charlie's sheer cheek.  
  
“I know it's not candles and romantic shit like you did for my thirtieth, but we don't have much time and I wanted to cut to the chase. So here I am, ready for you to... unwrap.”  
“Did you get me an actual present?” Bill asked playfully as he sauntered forward to capture the bar through the end of the younger wizard's cock.  
“Erm...” Charlie made a face. “I haven't eaten anything since my last dump, so the way ahead should be pretty clear?”  
“Wow. You shouldn't have. I'm so spoiled.”  
  
He looped his arms around Charlie's waist and pulled him close. His brother smelt familiar and satisfying. Bill poked his nose into the wild hair he loved and inhaled. Charlie shivered in his hold.  
  
“Great present,” Bill agreed, hiding his grin.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **Spring, 2015**  
  
“God, funerals are bloody depressing,” Charlie muttered under his breath.  
“Shhhh,” Bill whispered, but had to agree with him.  
  
They were stood amongst solemn mourners, a good few rows from the front where a line of bowed red haired people marked the point that this was a Weasley funeral. Thankfully, not one they were immediately close to – but their father had still lost a brother and they thought they ought to support him.  
  
“You owe me big time,” Charlie muttered again.  
“Well who else was going to come?” Bill shot back. “Mum's poorly, Fleur's at work along with the rest of our family.”  
“As should we be.”  
“Funny, one of us is on sick leave.”  
  
Bill tried not to hiss as a painful pinch in his side came. He acknowledged he deserved it, mocking Charlie for having to take time away from the job he loved so dearly. A late-in-life first bout of Dragonpox was not a laughing matter, and Charlie was only recently out of bed. He still looked worryingly pale – Bill hated the purple bruises beneath his eyes and how quickly he got tired.  
  
That was not his vigour-filled brother. It reminded him that they were both growing older and in turn, that made him question their behaviour. It should have stopped a long time ago, before he'd even thought about marrying and reproducing.  
  
Charlie loved Bill's children to his very core. He would do anything for them, as he would do anything for their parents. Though Bill knew he must harbour more than resentment for Fleur, he seemingly loved her just as much. Another sister. Someone to look after Bill when he could not – which was often. Everything kept them apart, spare brief moments they could grab. They'd not spent a full night together since Charlie's thirtieth birthday – thirteen whole years of stolen moments.  
  
Suddenly overcome with emotion, Bill coughed lightly and moved closer to Charlie. He reached down and, confident that their hands were hidden by their formal dress robes, he gently touched the back of his fingers to Charlie's palm. He felt the jolt of surprise run through him and then Bill held his breath as Charlie squeezed lightly.  
  
“Life sucks,” he uttered bleakly. “Could be one of us next.”  
  
Bill didn't answer. He'd been thinking the same thing.  
  
***  
  
“I'll just tell Dad that we're going,” Bill explained, stepping away from the corner he and Charlie had set up camp in. “Just... y'know.”  
  
Charlie nodded and drained the last of his ale.  
  
Bill headed across the room to where his dad sat drunk with his other brothers. The line of them was diminished and each of them looked wearier for it. One, in particular, looked especially wan. Something about the sight of him made Bill's breath catch.  
  
Was that how he would look, if Charlie were to die before him? Would he be the one sat there looking as if the world had been ripped from beneath his feet. With horror he realised he _would_ be.  
  
“Dad...” he turned his attention to his father. “We're going to head off. Is that okay? You'll be all right getting home?”  
“I'm sixty-five, Bill, not ninety-five.” He stood up, still as tall and willowy as his eldest. “You two go. Merlin knows you could be somewhere more cheerful than this.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “And Charlie doesn't look well. Time he should be in bed.”  
“Don't let him hear you say that,” Bill advised, forcing a smile.  
  
With a final nod he set back toward Charlie who looked, as said, like he should be tucked up in bed.  
  
“C'mon,” Bill said, reaching out to grip his arm, before Apparating them away.  
“Where are we?” Charlie asked, looking around.  
“Well... Fleur will be home by now, so we couldn't go there. No chance of privacy at Mum and Dad's so...”  
“Yeah, where are we though?” Charlie insisted.  
  
Bill looked about, feeling tired and disorientated. “I...”  
“You don't know?” Charlie asked, his voice an incredulous laugh. “And I thought I was distracted. Keeping upright is hard.”  
  
He stifled a yawn.  
  
“Let's...” Bill wandered over to a bench and sat down. He patted the space next to him and Charlie gratefully fell down next to him with a groan.  
“God, I hate funerals,” he moaned, and much to Bill's pleasure, Charlie closed his eyes and leant his head on his shoulder.  
  
Because there was nobody around Bill felt fine with ducking his chin and pressing a kiss into mad curls on his brother's head. He groped for his hands and held them tightly.  
  
He kissed Charlie's head again.  
  
“What's the matter?” Charlie asked.  
“Why would anything be the matter?” Bill asked lightly, looking out over the water.  
  
He really had no clue where he'd taken them.  
  
“Because we're sitting in public snuggling. We've never done this. Not even when we were kids. And you're practically shaking.”  
“It's just... nothing like a funeral to remind you of your own mortality. And that of the people you love.”  
  
Charlie sniffed slightly and then burrowed further into Bill's side.  
  
“You'll snuff it before me anyway,” he said finally. “So why've you got your knickers in a twist?”  
“I don't want to talk about death any more,” Bill said irritably.  
“It's coming for us all,” Charlie said dully. “There are very few certainties in life... death is one of the only constants.”  
“You're one of my only constants,” Bill blurted.  
  
He didn't know why he'd said it.  
  
“Oh my god, why so fucking melancholy?” Charlie asked, sitting bolt upright.  
  
Bill immediately missed the contact.  
  
“We've been at a funeral,” Bill pointed out.  
“For a man we've seen no more than seven times in our lives. Dad has a lot of brothers. This one never even sent birthday cards. Too busy sleeping with his wife's sister.”  
“What?”  
“Oh, I overheard Mum and Dad having a barney about it when I was fourteen. Mum found out from the wife and she wanted Dad to talk to him but Dad said there was no point because he'd never listen to him, the only person who could ever reason or control him was Uncle Brian.”  
  
That was the brother who'd looked so lost at the funeral.  
  
“And then Mum said that Dad had no spine and that she hoped her kids wouldn't be so cowardly if one of their older siblings did something morally despicable.”  
“Thank Godric we've never found out what they'd do if they found two of their older brothers doing something morally... despicable.” Bill huffed.  
“Probably be scarred for life.” Charlie smiled and slouched where he sat; he tipped his head back and looked at the sky.  
  
Bill was suddenly chilly and shattered.  
  
“We should go home,” he said miserably.  
  
Charlie hummed in agreement, but repositioned himself at Bill's side. Bill put an arm around his shoulders.  
  
They weren't going anywhere.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **January, 2023**  
  
“Shit, shit, shit.”  
  
Bill needed a stiff drink. “Am I the first one here?” he asked the room at large, not really expecting an answer.  
  
“You're... my... next... of... kin...”  
  
Charlie's voice was impossibly feeble. Bill had never heard him so weak before, and consequently he'd never experienced the level of terror pulsing through him, either.  
  
“Mum always... freaked out.”  
  
Charlie broke into a series of painful coughs on the bed and Bill didn't know what to do. He put his hand to what was left of his brother's beautiful mad hair. The dragon that had roasted him had burnt most of it to cinders.  
  
He'd known when the hospital made contact it was serious. Charlie never allowed it. Never wanted a fuss.  
  
Another rattling breath frightened Bill into bending over him and pressing his lips to the twisted mess of his brother's mouth.  
  
A strange noise escaped Charlie as they parted – a sort of guttural breath of relief, or perhaps release.  
  
Bill knew then. He felt the subtle severing of something within that he'd not noticed before; in its wake came a raw, all-encompassing grief which shot through his veins like Adrenalin.  
  
Charlie was dead. Bill clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep in the inevitable howl he knew was coming.  
  
His constant, his soulmate, was gone.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
